The Trip
by aikifrodogrrl
Summary: CSI member goes home. Angst ensues. Second in Vingettes Series


The Trip  
  
Part Two of the Vignettes Series  
  
Please read my story Photos aka Fingerprints first, this will make a lot more sense of if you do!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own and I don't make money off of them. This is more for me than anyone else, because its my story. Yes I know who I'm writing about, but you won't for a while. Mua-ha-ha! Don't worry this will take a total of five or six short stories and slash will commence at the end of the series.  
  
Please review! This is my first series, and the first in the series my very first piece of fiction.   
  
I have to give a special thank you to Elina who beta'd this and made massive corrections. Without her this would have been completely incomprehensible.  
  
Family  
  
"Rock a bye, baby", you hear a mother to her baby crooning as your flight descends. The baby has been howling the whole flight, and you've got one hell of a migraine. The fact you're visiting your parents doesn't help any either. Somehow that song, along with "You are Sunshine" always make you cry. At least that stupid "Sunshine" song makes sense. When you were little you thought it meant someone would take you away. It didn't happen, at least not physically. So why "Rock a Bye"?  
  
Echoing Footsteps  
  
The taxi drives through the streets that you walked on as a teen, not that long ago. Though local guides would be quick to pick out some more pleasant historical sites, all you notice are the more recently-built places that speak of pain. There's the church you were tossed out of after seeking hope. There's the high school where you suffered daily for four years, and from where you were once beaten so badly you still bear the scars. Here's hell and you know it way too well.  
  
The Chat  
  
You walk to the door of your old home. Though, if home is where the heart is you better run on back to Vegas. Just can't walk through that door, because if you do you'll be who you were. And that is someone no one should ever have to be. You grasp the cold knob, close your eyes, draw a deep breath, and enter.  
  
They are sitting there, waiting, smiling and expectant. Welcome homes from all around and hugs, of course. Suddenly you're not so sure of yourself. These people... How could they have let it all happen to you? They're so nice, so perfect. And if they are perfect, you must be wrong, and that means... Your thoughts begin to make you dizzy, so you decide to stop thinking for a little while. It's easier that way.  
  
After dinner you settle down to a game of cards just like you used to. Maybe you should wait until next time to bring it up; maybe next time you'll be stronger, maybe not. You brace yourself and let it out, "I need to know something…"  
  
"Not that damn gay thing again," your father yell," You've made us ashamed. Come home if you want, but don't bother us with that crap. And if you come, come alone" Actually yells is kind of mild, you're pretty sure that the people in New Zealand now know your family situation.  
  
You're mother chimes in, "We can't handle it. Don't you know what this has done to us? Don't you know how selfish you're being?"  
  
To say you're shocked would be a major mistake; that's way too light for the stroke you're having at this point. Pain radiates from your chest, a dense throbbing pain. You can't breathe and aren't sure you want to anymore.  
  
"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," you manage to sputter after a few speechless seconds.  
  
"Oh then what is it?" your dad says, having instantly transformed from evil vampire to some guy out of a sitcom. He looks at you with curious eyes, obviously happily surprised.  
  
"I want to know why things happened at school the way they did. I really need to know. Why didn't any of the teachers stop people from beating me?"  
  
He remains silent for a moment and just stares at you. It seems like an eternity, though you know it's just been seconds, before your father answers "Well, kids will be kids. Besides you were always so different, if you had just been a normal person ..." His voice trails off as he thinks for a second of how to put it. Then, as if there's no simpler truth, "It was really partially your own fault. "  
  
"I have scars, Dad, and need medication just to make it through the day! What about the time they assaulted me?" Wow. That sounded just like the needy teenager you are so trying to project. Damn.  
  
"Those medications are for sick people, not for people who chose pain. Most of your scars are under your hair, no one can see them. As for that assault, well what did you expect?" Your mother's voice is harsh and grating.  
  
"Why didn't you stop it? You never went to the school. Why didn't you try to stop them?" Now you're starting to cry, and all can you feel is self-loathing. What did you expect… Just not to be beaten. Weren't you worth protecting?  
  
"You could always deal with things. We never worried about you," your father says as if it justifies everything. But then again, he's not even bothered with reasoning anymore. His voice grows more impatient, more intense, louder with every syllable he utters. He spits out the words as he rants, "Besides, you were always an embarrassment! We had to constantly explain all those bruises and broken bones. It's not like we could have helped you! Parent's just didn't get involved in my day!"   
  
Your mother glares at you. "It doesn't matter anymore. If you think that was hard, then how about when your coworkers or friends learn about you? They'll destroy you. You're too damn sensitive to live that life of yours! We thought you were at the point where you could be happy, but now you have bring this up!"  
  
Leaving for Las Vegas  
  
You've been walking for hours when you grab your cell and call the lab. "Hey, I'm switching my ticket, I'll be back in tomorrow night... Yeah, I'm okay. You know family crap... Yeah its all good, see ya later."  
  
As you hang up you start to laugh, first quietly then hysterically. It ought to be a cold and rainy night. With lots of wind. You should be more pathetic looking and the houses more ominous, or something. Your world is really being blown up and you would think that everything should go along with how you feel, but it doesn't. Isn't there someone up there who works in special effects department?   
  
But no, it's a great day! It's a warm summer evening, with shining stars in the sky. Happy freakin' families everywhere and God must be smiling down right here in this little slice of Americana. Family and God. Two things you've had drilled into your head. They are the absolute, above all other things, and they've both been stolen now. A family that would rather see you beaten, nearly killed, than admit things were anything besides perfect. A God that makes people and then tosses them straight to hell for love. All in a world that wishes you'd never been born.   
  
Suddenly, you are so tired. You're not feeling hurt or sad, or even angry. You don't feel anything at all. Just a kind of exhaustion you can feel in your bones. Stumbling onto Main Street you catch a taxi back to the airport. Homeward bound. Running from a place where you're not wanted to a place where you're not known.   
  
Oh crap... Your meds are at your parents place, and no more for another month on your insurance.  
  
God, what were you thinking?  
  
Does it really matter anyway? 


End file.
